With darkness comes light
by Lokis army at 221B
Summary: After Sherlock and John both survive life threatening accidents, they begin to notice their feelings for eachother arent what they thought. ((Much of this was inspired by several RPs and my lovely best friend who I'd be lost without. Maybe a few Doctor who referances here and there.))
1. Shot in the dark

"I think he's been here before me" Sherlock said from across the room. He and John had been working on this case for a few months, but tonight they knew where the criminal was going to be. He was in the house with them, hiding behind a door. John was ready to run after him once he let his guard down. And that's exactly what he did. Soon enough the murderer ran out from behind the door and out into the streets. John ran after him and Sherlock followed suite. They had been running a good 3 minutes when Sherlock passed John and ran into the crowds after the man. After that John lost them both in the crowd. Sherlock followed the criminal into an alley way. The alley was dark, wet, and quiet. "Shit" he said to himself. The only thought running through his mind was that he lost him. He growled in frustration, running his hand through his hair. It was quiet and dark and the only noise her could hear was the faint noise of cabs driving past. It stayed like that until the sound of a gun loading was the loudest noise he could hear. He turned quick towards the noise when he heard a loud noise. Almost immediately he felt his ribcage go hot and then pain ran through his body. The darkness around him grew blurry and he collapsed to the ground. He couldn't move.

…

John made his way through the crowd. He couldn't find the detective anywhere. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a gunshot off in the distance. He could only think something bad happened to his friend. He ran towards the noise, looking on every street and in every alleyway he could find until he looked in one and saw Sherlock laying on the ground motionless. "Sherlock!" he yelled running towards the man with his torch in his hand. "Sherlock?" he said when he reached the detective, kneeling beside him on the cold, wet ground. He shined the light in his face and moved it down his body checking for gunshot wounds. He stopped when he saw Sherlock's ribcage drenched in blood. "No no no no no" he said quickly. "Sherlock can you hear me?" he said "Listen to me you can't die, not now, not again." John got his phone out as quick as he could and called Lestrade. "Greg, you need to send an ambulance to my location ASAP! Sherlock's been shot."

About 3 minutes later an emergency team was putting Sherlock on a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. John, without hesitation, jumped into the back with him and Lestrade did the same. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked looking at John. "Yes of course. Why?" "You do realize you're crying right?" John didn't notice until that moment that his face was wet with tears. He didn't say anything. Soon, the doors of the ambulance opened and Sherlock was being rushed into the emergency room. John followed behind when a woman in a nurses uniform stopped him. "I'm sorry sir. Patients and staff only" "But he's my-" "Patients and staff only" she repeated.

He sat in the waiting room, head in hands, his heart beating out of his chest for hours. He heard an unfamiliar voice say his name. He looked up and saw a man in a doctor's uniform standing in front of him. "Yes?" "Sherlock's fine. We cleaned the wound and stitched him up. There was no serious damage done but he might get a scar there. His body went into shock when he was shot and that's why he fainted. Although he did loose a lot of blood." "Is he awake?" "No. At least not anymore. He woke up for a few minutes and kept asking about you." "Me?" "Yes. He kept asking if you were alright and if you had gotten hurt. But then he fell asleep. You're free to go to his room if you like. It's the first door on the right side. Second floor" "Okay thank you" He stood up and made his way to the lift. Even though the lift ride up was only a floor, it felt like it took ages for the doors to open to the second floor. John walked into the first door on the right which was right in front of the lift. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw his friend , alive, sleeping, and safe. He sat in the chair next to Sherlock's bed. It was five in the morning and he was tired. He thought that if he took a nap, that Sherlock would be awake when he woke up. He laid his head down on the edge of the bed and was out in two minutes.

…

When Sherlock woke he didn't know where he was or what had happened after he fell on the ground. He took a look around.

_Bed sheets have been pressed, room is kept well sanitized, IV in my left arm, heart monitor measuring pulse, and-_

Oh.

_John. My John._

_Sherlock smiled. John must have been the one who called for an ambulance. Oh no. John must have seen his rather…frightening injury. _

_Even though Sherlock would never admit it to anyone, he had feelings for John. Feelings he could not explain. _

_John's smile would make him happy, his laugh would make his heart jump, and his eyes would make him feel calm. _

_He had never felt anything like this with anyone else. Not ever. And yet, he didn't mind it. _

_He shifted a bit in his bed accidentally waking John up. The army doctor's head shot up fast and he looked around frantically. His eyes settled on Sherlock who was smiling at him. _

"_Good Morning, John" he said_

"_Hi" John yawned "How are you feeling?" _

"_like hell" _

"_Why? Are you in any pain?" John looked like he was about to panic._

"_No" Sherlock said sternly. "I just don't want to be here."_

"_Well you're only here for about one or two days. There was no serious damage done so I'm pretty sure you'll be okay." _

"_Maybe I can get Mycroft to get someone to clear me and send me home. I'm not staying here for more than a night and I'm no-"_

_The detective's words were cut off when John stood up and hugged him tightly, burying his face into his neck. _

"_What's this?" _

"_I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I should have never let you out of my sight. I'm so sorry."_

_Sherlock hesitated until he felt his shoulder becoming wet under John's face and felt his friends breathing become shaky. He returned the embrace and held onto him tightly. _

"_No. If it weren't for you I would have bled to death in that alleyway last night. So don't blame yourself. Please."_

_They sat still for a few moments. Hugging each other tightly until John sat up. _

"_I'm going to get some tea down stairs. Do you want anything?"Sherlock shook his head and smiled. John smiled back and left the room. _

"_Damn" Sherlock said under his breath "How am I ever going to tell him? What do I say 'Oh Hi John how are you? Good? Oh I'm fine and I have feelings for you.'" he held his head in his head and sighed. "what am I going to do?" _


	2. Detectives sleeping with Doctors

Sherlock stayed at the hospital for three days. Three days of nurses trying to get him to eat and sleep, three days of Mycroft's rather long and annoying visits, and three days of no John. Sure John visited him once or twice but he couldn't visit as much as he wanted to. The days felt like years.

When he was finally cleared to go home, John came to get him with a cab. "You ready to get back home?" he said with a smile. "Of course" Sherlock replied getting into the cab. Both of the men were completely silent the whole ride there. Both occasionally glancing at the other when they weren't looking.

When they reached the flat, Sherlock practically jumped from inside the cab. John laughed. "Excited to be home? Damn. That's a first. That hospital must have been torture." he said unlocking the door. Sherlock said nothing. The hospital was torture for him. He didn't see John as much as he wanted to. He had no idea how safe he was. It was only three days but for him it felt like three decades.

He stepped in. The flat felt empty and quiet. More empty and quiet than usual. "Where's Mrs. Hudson?"

"She was a bit stressed out after what happened. I told her she should take a holiday. So she did."

"Really? Where did she go?" he asked taking a seat in his chair. "A friend of hers took her to Sussex for the week." They sat silent for a moment until John broke out into laughter. "What's so funny?" "Nothing. Just…remembered something."

Sherlock moved across the room to his chair. It had been left untouched for three days and the imprint of his body that was usually there was now gone. He sat down and blanked out with his thoughts.

_I wonder if Lestrade has a lead on where the criminal might be. We have to get him soon before he kills someone else. Or perhaps it would be a good thing if he killed someone else then maybe I could get more clues on who he is exactly. I still don't know his name. Only his face and the way he kills. Althou-_

His thoughts were cut off and he was sent back to reality when he smelt the relaxing odor of chamomile tea being brewed. It was his favorite tea because it helped him relax after a rather pressing case. Although he hadn't had it in a while. He let out a small sigh when John brought him a steaming cup.

"Chamomile?" "Of course. It's your favorite isn't it? I picked some up last night."

Sherlock smiled and sipped the hot beverage. A feeling of ease and relaxation swept over him. He looked up and saw John sitting across from him in his chair reading a book.

_Tired. Hasn't slept since I've been gone. Stressed out. Saw Mike for lunch yesterday afternoon and barely ate._

"John?" Sherlock had a concerned tone. A tone he only ever used with John or Mrs. Hudson. "hm?" "When was the last time you slept?" John closed his book and rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know. A few days."

Sherlock put his cup back in it's saucer and placed it on the small coffee table that had been set beside his chair. He stood up and took the book from John's lap placing it on the same table he placed his tea on. "what are you doing?" John asked "I may be able to stay awake for days on end but you cant." He pulled John out of his chair without really trying. "No. Sherlock. I'm fine. Really." "No you are tired and you haven't slept in days. You are going to get some sleep if it kills me." He gripped the other mans arm in his and began pulling on him. "Goddamn it, Sherlock, I said I'm fine." He tried to pull himself out of Sherlock's grip but it was no use. The man's grip is rather strong.

Sherlock leads John to his room and opens the door. "No, I'm going to my room." "No you're not. You are going to sleep where I can make sure you are sleeping. I know you John Watson. If I allow you to sleep in your room you will just get out a magazine or newspaper to read. No. Tonight you are sleeping." He pulled John into his room and onto his bed. "Sleep." he said before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

He was stopped when a hand grabbed his wrist. "You aren't getting off that easy when was the last time _you_ actually slept?" Sherlock turned to face John. He was taken back when he saw how close John had gotten to him. The army doctor's eyes had turned into a bright twinkling blue in the dark. Sherlock could stare at them for the rest of his life if he wanted to. "uh…five…five days" he stammered. John pulled him back into the room and shut the door. "You're sleeping too. You may be able to stay awake for days but you do need sleep and you are going to get some." he said softly. Sherlock was a bit tired. He sighed and kicked off his shoes, sending them across the room. "Alright. Fine."

He laid down on the mattress which was amazingly soft. Softer than the ones at the hospital. He turned on his side and saw John had already laid down next to him and closed his eyes. He smiled. "goodnight, John." he whispered.


	3. can't do this without you

**Authors note: Thank you guys for all your support! It really means alot. And now in this chapter we get to have some feels. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.**

* * *

John woke up to the unfamiliar angle of the sun. When he opened his eyes he remembered that Sherlock had made him sleep in his bed last night and- _oh. _

He remembered making Sherlock go to bed too. He slept in the same bed as Sherlock. He could feel the man's breath on the back of his neck. He thought this would make him feel uncomfortable but oddly enough, he felt so comfortable he really didn't want to move.

He never really thought about the way he felt when he was around Sherlock. He felt sort of complete and he was happier than he usually was with any of his past girlfriends. He always thought maybe those feelings were just how it felt to be in a close friendship with someone. But in his gut he knew that wasn't the case.

John got out of the bed as gently and quietly as he could trying not to wake Sherlock. He left the room and went to his own and changed out of the clothes he wore the day before. Sherlock never let him change last night when he literally pushed John into his room.

He continued to do what he usually did every morning. Get showered, brush his teeth, and get into fresh clothes. When he went downstairs Sherlock was sitting at the table, newspaper in hand. He looked up at John for a quick moment. "I trust you slept well." He said looking back down at the paper.

John sat in to chair next to him and noticed the hot cup of tea waiting for him where he normally sat. "I slept fine. Your mattress is more comfortable than I imagined." He took a second to process the words that just came out of his mouth.

_'Your mattress is more comfortable than I imagined' Oh god. That makes you seem like you've imagined sleeping in his bed. Damn it John._

He pushed the thought out of his mind and sipped the hot tea. It was made just as he liked it. With the perfect amount of cream and just a little sugar. Sherlock always knew how he liked it.

They sat in silence for a few moments when they heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. It was Greg. He never went to the flat without calling first unless it was really important.

"Hello boys." he said coming through the doorway "How are you feeling?" he was obviously talking to Sherlock. "Lestrade, you never come here without calling first so this must be important so please just get to it." Sherlock still wouldn't look up from his newspaper. Greg sighed and looked down at his shoes. "We know where Moran is going to be tonight and we were thinking one of you, and only one of you, could come and confirm that it is indeed him." Sherlock's face shot straight up to meet Lestrade's eyes. "Moran?" "Yeah. You know the guy who shot you and killed a few other people?" "Yes of course I know but how do you know where he is going to be?" "A woman contacted us. She said she was is ex girlfriend and he called he telling her where he was going to be."

Sherlock stood up quick "I'll go" "No you're not" John said standing up "You need to shower and you need to rest. I'm going." "John, this man shot me who knows what else he is capable of I need to-" "No. You are not going. I am going. Don't worry I'll call you when we leave." John slipped his shoes and coat on and was out the door before Sherlock could argue anymore. Greg looked up at him and smiled "Oh don't worry I'll make sure he calls you." He said before walking out the door.

Greg wasn't an idiot. He knew both men had feelings for each other and frankly he was getting annoyed that neither of them would say anything. It took all his strength not to just yell "Oh will you two just kiss already?" whenever the two were staring at each other.

Sherlock huffed and threw himself onto the couch. He didn't like sending John off on a case by himself. He knew John didn't observe, he did clumsy things sometimes, but most of all he was worried about John's well being.

* * *

He waited for John to call for hours and hours and _hours_. He began to worry. He paced back and forth until the phone finally rang. "John" he answered it. "Hello brother" Mycroft. Not the person whose voice he cared to hear right now. "Mycroft I'm waiting for an important phone call I don't have time-" "John is in the hospital"

The words stabbed at Sherlock like a knife in the heart. "w…what?"

"Greg and him were chasing Moran down and John got in front of Greg. He chased Moran into a building were he went to the top floor. Moran escaped and a bomb was in the basement of the building. It went off as soon as John reached the top floor. He is in critical condition. I've sent a cab to come and get you. It will bring you here. You are the only person allowed to visit him I have been assured. His room number is 376. Get here now before it's too late. He's already slipping through our fingers."

Mycroft hung up. Sherlock dropped the phone and raced to get some fresh clothes on.

When he ran down the stairs and out the door the cab pulled up. He got in with thoughts racing through his mind.

_What if I'm too late. What if he gets some sort of brain damage. What if he goes into a coma and doesn't remember who I am when he wakes up._

Sherlock ran a hand over his face and rubbed his temples. He sat still for the entire drive. When the cab pulled up to the hospital he threw money into the cabbie's lap and raced into the hospital.

When he reached room 376 his heart dropped. John was asleep. His pulse was incredibly weak according to the heart monitor. His face was incredibly pale He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead, scratches and cuts up his arms and on his face, and a large cut from the tip of his chin to his collar bone.

Sherlock sat in the chair next to the bed. From here he could see John had about twenty stitches on his side were something had stabbed itself into him. He felt tears swell in his eyes. He didn't hold them back. He held John's hand, kissing every tiny scratch on his hand and whispering "I'm sorry" in between each kiss.

"I shouldn't have let you go. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me. I can't do this without you." His voice cracked.


	4. And the penny drops

**Authors note:** **Okay there are a few doctor who references in this chapter so yay!**

* * *

Sherlock saw John's eyelids slowly begin to open. He was holding John's hand against his cheek.

John's eyes moved toward Sherlock whose face was wet and eyes were red. "Hi" he croaked. His throat was sore and felt raw. His body felt like it had been crushed. He was cold apart from the hand Sherlock was holding against his warm skin.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go. I should have tried harder. I'm so sorry." he said feeling tears pooling in his eyes again. He was never this emotional. Not ever. But he was never in this situation. The situation of possibly losing the person he cared about most. The situation of this possibly being the last conversation they ever have and never being able to look into those amazing blue eyes again.

"No..it's not your...fault" he was using all the energy he had to talk.

"But it is." he paused. Tears now streaming down his face. "Ever since the fall I promised myself I wouldn't let you get hurt. I promised myself I wouldn't let you slip through my fingers. And I've failed you."

"Don't be like that. Sherlock...please. I wouldn't even be happy if you weren't in my life."

"Oh yes you would. If it weren't for me, you would probably be married by now. Perhaps with a child and a job and a nice house."

"Don't you realize I dont want any of that. The marriage and the perfect job and the perfect house. It all seems so...pedestrian."

"'It may be pedestrian but you'd be safe. You wouldn't have had to think me dead for three years and gone through the depression, you wouldn't have had to watch my jump from a roof, and you wouldn't be in this hospital bed right now. You'd be happy."

"If I didn't meet you i'd be dead. I was so close to killing myself after what happened in Afghanistan you have no idea. I missed the adrenaline, the excitement. And when I met you, I felt different." John was feeling drowsy all of the sudden. The drugs that were leaking into him were making him fall asleep. Sherlock gave John's hand another quick kiss and placed it back on the bed.

"Go to sleep John. I promise I'll be here when you wake up" John was already asleep

* * *

Sherlock did as he promised. He stayed in that hospital for as long as possible. He stayed every night until John was better. He had to fight with several nurses and other staff members to let him stay but eventually they grew tired of trying. Of course every morning Sherlock went back to the flat to take a shower, change his clothes, brush his teeth, and have as much tea as possible because he couldn't stomach the tea that was served at the hospital. He brought his laptop with him and worked on cases through email with Lestrade.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks eventually turned into two whole months before John was finally sent home.

The scratches and cuts were healed, the gash on his forehead left a small pink mark, the large cut from his chin to his collarbone turned into a faint scar, and the large cut on his side was now a large scar. He felt better though.

The flat was cold. It had gone practically untouched while the men were gone. When Mrs. Hudson came back from Sussex she didn't bother going into the flat when they weren't there. She thought it was "An invasion of privacy." The windows are frosted over with snow that had fallen the day before. It was the twenty-second of December. Christmas was coming faster than either man could believe. Neither of them worried about presents though. Each made sure Mrs. Hudson went out and got the gifts they wanted to give each other. Sherlock didn't normally give gifts on Christmas but he felt on the occasion that John was finally home, it was necessary.

As the next few days past the men seemed to have gotten...rather close. They were attached at the hip, occasionally one of them wrapped their arm around the others waist or shoulders, they joked around a bit more, and they huddled on the couch when it was cold. People began to talk. People do little else. Though Mrs. Hudson seemed rather happy.

When Christmas arrived they had the traditional party at 221B. Sherlock played the violin, Molly showed up late, and of course Greg wouldn't stop flirting with her. Not that anyone could blame him. He had been divorced from his wife for about a year now and he hadn't had a girlfriend since. John had been pushing him to ask Molly out for some time. But of course Greg was too "scared of the commitment."

Later that night everyone exchanged gifts. That only lasted a few minutes before Greg got a phone call.

"Sherlock, John we have to go now. Moran is in custody." Greg bolted out the door. The two men glanced at each other and grabbed their coats while running out the door.

They followed Greg to the crime scene. There had been shots fired but no sign of a body or bullet wounds on Moran.

Sherlock walked straight up to Moran who was being held by some police officers. "Ah. Mr. Holmes. We finally meet." He had a thick Scottish accent, Blonde hair, a scar above his upper lip, and he was rather muscular. He looked at John like he was something he wanted to devour. Sherlock grabbed his neck.

"Oh. Rather protective of our pet aren't we?" he laughed

"who are you working for?" Sherlock's voice had become full of hate.

"Tell me, Sherlock. What would you do if I got out of your's and the police's grip and went over and strangled Johnny boy to death?"

Sherlock squeezed harder. "Answer me!" he said

"No. You answer me before I do get out of your grips and kill him."

"I'd shoot you without hesitating."

"Oh so you are protective of your pets?"

"Who are you working for!?" He yelled and squeezed even harder.

He stopped when he heard Sally yelling for them. She had found someone.

"I'll deal with you later" he said backing away

He ran to where sally was and found a woman. She was the one who had been shot. Her wound was below her breast and she was loosing a lot of blood, fast.

"Sally go tell Greg to call an ambulance we'll handle this" John said not looking at her. She got up and left. Sherlock removed his scarf and put pressure on the wound.

"What's your name?" he asked

"J...Jennifer"

She was young. Early twenties. College student. She was dying. John only had one idea to keep her conscious.

"Hey Jennifer. You ever fancy someone you know you shouldn't?"

She looked at him blankly. "W..what?"

"It hurts." He glanced at Sherlock who was staring at him. "But a kind of good hurt."

She smiled. "I really shouldn't talk about him."

"Oh! There's a him?" Another glance a Sherlock "Tell me about him Jennifer."

She turned her head to look up at the stars and smiled again. "He has beautiful eyes and a wonderful smile. He's American. He has the warmest skin i've ever felt."

"Do you love him?"

"yes."

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"Well then. You need to fight through this so you can tell him. You have to tell him before it's too late."

"Okay." She said still smiling "What about you? Do you love someone?"

"Yes."

Sherlock looks at him with curious eyes.

"Have you told them yet?"

"No. I'm afraid that they might not feel the same way."

He looked up at Sherlock who was staring back.

"Well John" he began "I'm sure that this person has the exact same feelings for you." John smiled at this.

"Are you positive?"

Sherlock returned the smile.

"absolutely."

They heard the sound sirens fill the silent night.

Before they knew it an emergency team was putting Jennifer on a stretcher and hauling her into the back of the ambulance.

John turned to face Sherlock who was looking at him, trying to deduce something apparently.

"So. You think the person has feelings for me too?" John said looking up at him.

"Oh I know they do." He said stepping closer. Neither of them realizing Lestrade wasn't too far away, watching them. "Penny in the air." he whispered to himself.

"Prove it." John replied

Sherlock grabbed the back of the army doctor's neck and leaned in and pressed his lips against his. Sherlock's lips were soft and warm. The feeling of them in contact with John's made John's pulse increase.

"And the penny drops" Lestrade said out loud laughing.

When they pulled apart they smiled at each other. "Home?" Sherlock asked

"Yes. I'm freezing."

They walked home. Hand in hand.

When they walked in everyone was gone. The flat was quiet and warm from the heat of the fire-place. "Oh I almost forgot about the present." he dug under the couch cushions and pulled out a small box.

Neatly wrapped. White colored wrapping paper. Blue bow on top. It was a thin rectangular box. He handed it to Sherlock who unwrapped it and opened it quickly.

"A phone?"

"You said you didn't like the Iphone. So I got you a Blackberry smart phone."

Sherlock smiled. He did prefer the blackberry over the Iphone. He didn't do well with touch screens. "Thank you." he said "I'm afraid mine is a bit...different."

John smiled. Sherlock turned and took out John's handgun and gave it to him. "My gun?"

Sherlock smiled "Look at the side." When John turned it to it's side he say the letters J.W. engraved on it. "My initials?"

"I had it done while you were in the hospital. Thought it would be useful at some point."

"Thank you." John walked over and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "merry christmas."


	5. The wolf and the devil

**Authors note: I'm so terribly sorry if anyone is really OOC. Thank you for all the positive reviews, you guys. It really means a lot to me. Enjoy~ **

* * *

"Hey Freak." Sally's voice cut through Sherlock like nails on a chalkboard. He hadn't had a regular conversation with her since he came back.

"Hello Sally." He sat alone in Greg's office. He was waiting to be called in to interrogate Moran. It was the first interrogation he's done in years.

Sally looked down at her shoes. "Listen um...I want to apologize for what happened." "I wish I could accept that apology Donovan. But what you and Anderson did was unforgivable. You helped Moriarty in his game and you hurt a few people in the process." "That's not fair we didn't know-" "Of course you didn't. You never know. You always just assume."

"Sherlock. We're ready for you." Greg said as he stepped into the room

Sherlock walked out with Greg following behind. "What was Donovan talking to you about." He asked

"Nothing." Sherlock stopped at the door of the interrogation room. "I'm going in alone." "No you aren't." "I have questions of my own to ask him and I can't have you interfering." Greg stepped back and sighed "You have five minutes, dont do anything stupid."

When Sherlock stepped into the room, Moran was sitting at a small table in the middle of it. His hands were cuffed and he was nawing at the chain. Like an animal trying to break from it's prison. Sebastian Moran is an animal. A rabid animal that wanted nothing but to naw on the flesh of others.

"Ah. Mr. Holmes. We meet again." He looked up. His eyes were cold and piercing. The eyes of a killer.

"So we do." The detective sat across from Moran.

"What do you want?"

"Who are you working for?"

"Why would I tell you?"

They sat silent. Moran stared down at his cuffs. "His eyes are black like the night sky, he has no soul, he has no heart, he is empty inside." He pointed to the scar on his upper lip. "He went at me with a blade once. Got me right on the lip. I stayed with him though. Because he gets so lost."

"And what is his name?"

Moran looked up and locked eyes with Sherlock. "Not saying."

* * *

Needless to say John and Sherlock's relationship did change.

Well, not exactly change. The only real difference was the kissing and the holding hands. Other than that everything was pretty much the same. They still had fights whenever Sherlock was being irrational or when he shot things because he was "bored" but those fights usually ended with a kiss or a "You're lucky I love you."

No fights tonight though. Tonight both of them were tired.

They started sharing Sherlock's bed on impulse. It just felt right.

Tonight though, Sherlock was tossing and turning and huffing uncontrollably. John turned to face him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm confused, John" John sat up. He had never ever _ever_ heard those words come out of Sherlock Holmes's mouth. Not once. He didn't know Sherlock could get confused.

"What?"

"I have an idea of who Moran could be working for but it's...impossible."

John laid back down beside him, nuzzling his nose in the other man's neck.

"maybe he isn't working for anyone."

"No he told me himself that he was."

"Maybe he was lying?"

"No. No he wasn't lying."

"Take your mind off it for a while."

"I can't. I don't know how. Nothing is more important."

John stared at the man's profile. Sherlock was indescribably beautiful. His cheekbones, his lips, his eyes, his everything. Perfect.

Sherlock turned his head to face John who was staring straight at him.

"What?" He asked.

John smiled and brought his lips to Sherlock's.

Sherlock kissed back. Tongues intertwining, deep breathing, pulling each other closer. It was all something both of them wanted to last forever. Until Sherlock pulled away.

"Do you smell that?"

John sniffed. Nothing.

"Smell what?"

"Smoke."

Sherlock jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen. John followed.

When they entered the kitchen, it was grey. Filled with smoke. They couldn't see anything anywhere.

"Sherlock?" John choked holding his hand out.

221B was burning.

Various thoughts were running through Sherlock's head.

_How did this happen? Where's Mrs. Hudson? Why didn't the fire alarm go off? Where's the fire?_

He could hear the sound of shoes coming toward him rapidly. Not John. Not Mrs. Hudson.

_1.73 meters tall, male, thin_

It was at that moment when Sherlock felt something hard hit the back of his head before he fainted.

* * *

John's eyes and throat were burning from the smoke.

He heard something hit the floor. Hard.

Before he could think of what it was he felt something hit the back of his head.

He fainted.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short. I hope you still love me. If you didn't love me in the first place that's okay. I still love you.**


End file.
